


love, d.va

by atermoiements



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Other, i need less 'gremlin d.va' content and more 'd.va is 19 and in the army' content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atermoiements/pseuds/atermoiements
Summary: "Her boosters can go full blast for four seconds before the jets risk getting overheated, she can last for ten under heavy fire before MEKA forcibly ejects her. The sound of bullets hitting her visor is a dull echo in her head in the middle of the night, making it impossible to sleep. In dreams, she presses her palms against cool metal, the bullet dents like dimples scattered across her MEKA."





	

At ten years old, Hana Song’s favorite color is pink, she wants a pet rabbit for her birthday, and she dreams one day of being a hero. In the afternoons she spends her time playing Starcraft instead of doing her homework, runs to arcades after class and laughs with her friends like nothing matters. Her only reference of what it feels like to fail is when her initials get knocked off the high score board, but she's only ever one game away from fixing it.

Hana cruises through her classes, excels at math and sciences (but trips through history) - while she furiously scribbles down answers in the margins of her notebooks she realizes she has a fondness for numbers; she wants to _learn_ , wants to build puzzles and structures and games like the ones she's grown up loving and throws herself head first into the world of code in her free time. Hana's passion lies within parentheses, neatly contained sentences lined up in rows on her computer screen. When she comes across issues she treats them like virtual targets on the enemy line, delights in the challenge each one brings her. 

Hana chuckles to herself each time she solves a new error. 

"What, is this _easy mode_?"

 

* * *

 

At sixteen, Hana thinks she isn't afraid of many things. The first tourney she attends makes her reconsider.

 

With sweating palms and anxiety curdling in her stomach, Hana's never been challenged like this. Eyes follow her, press themselves into the back of her skull and past the crook of her neck, they tick back and forth as her fingers furiously press on a keyboard. She was warned of scrutiny, of staring eyes staring harder once they realized a _girl_ was in their midsts. There were others, of course, but they kept to themselves, quiet in their pride, deadly silent in their failures. None of them had shown her energy, her spark, the way she fell half out of her chair after narrowly winning, how she pumped her fists in excitement (when no one is looking in between matches she has to wipe the sweat onto her pants).

Even then, she smiles like she’s already won and when the matches come to an end she waves to her opponents as they skulk away. They call her merciless, a fighter, her reputation precedes her and whispers only continue to grow louder as they follow her down the halls. The praise at the top is addicting, and she drinks it in with laughter.

* * *

 

 

She holds her breath for three years with the title still in her hands and when the cameras flash towards her she glows, adorned in sponsors from toe to tip, the image of a nineteen year old champion. When her friends are going off to college to be doctors and teachers and artists, Hana “ _D.Va”_ Song becomes one of the first MEKA pilots. They give her a uniform and it’s surreal, how natural the mech's controls feel in her hands. They only practice shooting in skirmishes, (they call it training, the prep period) and it never occurs to any of them _(not that there were many to begin with)_ the scale what they're getting into. War is still unfamiliar, the reality foggy and distant. The concept of fame and adoration is intoxicating, and before long Hana figures out how to stream her training sessions, watches comments roll in saying how incredible she is.

Hana was never shy, but she was never quite a star like _D.Va_ is. She becomes an expert at how to toss a wink at cameras over her shoulder and blow kisses to crowds that swarm to see her in public. Companies come to her, beg her to advertise their products, and before long her own face is reflected back at her in commercials, magazines, ads online. Suddenly she pretends she knows how to act, memorizes lines in a script like she used to memorize lines of code. Now, she makes a profit off of yelling at video games and giggling as she taunts her opponents in real time, chugs endorsement soda like it will keep her forever young. Everyone loves her, and who is she to deny the people what they want?

 

When she closes her streams she signs off with a _"Love, D.Va!"_ and falls asleep, exhausted but happy.

 

* * *

 

War, as it turns out, is not easy.

 

The little quirks and kinks of her MEKA that Hana had learned in training now become knots in her shoulders and neck, sources of stress to keep her awake at night. _Shield lasts for four seconds before I can recharge it._ She repeats it mindlessly, (four seconds, four seconds, _four seconds)_ as if by constantly reminding herself of each limitation she can avoid failure. Her boosters can go full blast for four seconds before the jets risk getting overheated, she can last for ten under heavy fire before MEKA forcibly ejects her. The sound of bullets hitting her visor is a dull echo in her head in the middle of the night, making it impossible to sleep. In dreams, she presses her palms against cool metal, the bullet dents like dimples scattered across her MEKA.  

Mei becomes both mentor and confidant, discussing her research and Hana’s nightmares in equal turn. Mei’s voice is soft, and her hugs seem to stifle all the fear that curls itself into Hana’s ribcage; even sitting next to her, Hana feels the relief in her shoulders as she slouches forward, a breath exhaled that she didn’t realize she was holding. Mei suggests counting sheep as she blows away steam from her morning coffee _(Hana still finds it too bitter and drinks flat soda from the night before)_. She tries it that night, forcing her eyes shut as the sheep begin to jump, but their bodies curdle and shudder; they’re all MEKAs before they touch the ground. Before long she's trapped in a permanent loop of logging bullet holes and starting countdowns until she can activate her boosters.

Hana forces herself awake and spends the rest of the night staring at the bunk above hers, her back buoyed by imaginary numbers.

 

* * *

 

Six months into her service, news hits that international sensation Lúcio is joining Overwatch, and Hana is _elated_. She spends half an hour rolling out wrinkles in her suit with the palms of her gloved hands before he arrives to Gibraltar. Before the jets have even completely landed, Hana already has her phone in one hand to take a selfie to post for her fans.

The introductions go quickly and Lúcio has as much charm that could be expected: he disarms them easily with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle, and he knows everyone's names as if they've been long-time friends. The way he eases in seamlessly besides the other mercenaries feels like family coming home instead of a stranger being pulled into their midsts. When it comes time for him to shake Hana's hand, she gives it a firm squeeze, pulls out her own photo ready smile.

"It's so cool to finally meet you!" she says, and lifts her phone. "Do you mind if we take a quick selfie? I know my fans would love it."

"Oh, anything for D.Va! I'd say the honor's all mine." Lúcio wraps an arm around her shoulder, and both of them beam at the camera. The app Hana’s using throws sparkles all over their faces with a charming ding.

"Thank you _so_ much!" Hana says, already halfway through posting it on every social media outlet possible. Lúcio nods, lingering as he watches her add at least six different hashtags before finishing the post, letting out a low whistle.

“You handle your web presence on top of all of this?” He gestures widely to the station, emphatically raising an eyebrow at her MEKA, softly whirring in a corner. “Man, I couldn’t imagine. I try to document and upload what I can, but, y’know…” he shrugs, and fiddles with the gloves on his hands. “Sometimes things get a little too heavy for that. You know how it is.”

Hana forces a light laugh, waves a hand flippantly as she tucks her phone away.

“Always gotta do my best for the fans! They love seeing what I’m up to.” She pretends to not notice the way Lúcio looks at her, like he’s searching her smile for a breaking point, like he can feel how she forces the anxiety to crawl somewhere unnoticed inside her.

“Just remember to take it easy once in awhile, alright?” He pats her shoulder before moving to explore the rest of the base, and while Hana nods, she can feel her smile drop as he walks further away.

When she falls asleep that night she is still counting bullets but Lúcio’s voice echoes above her.

 

_Take it easy._

 

* * *

Hana’s breath is wet and thick with the taste of her own blood as she is running, ducking to hide behind pieces of rubble scattered haphazardly across Ilios. It had been nerves, poor strategy, that had made her activate the self-destruct sequence on MEKA too early; her own heartbeat echoed back at her and bounced off the walls, the sound of gunfire and her own labored breathing a terrifying cacophony.

There is heat, a sting of pain underneath her ribs, one that leaves her gasping even as she gingerly presses a finger against it. She holds her other hand to her headphones, clears her throat as she calls out for anyone - Mercy, Lúcio, _anyone -_ to find her. In between rattling off anything and everything about her location, the numbers in her mind are still turning, still going. She has twenty seconds until she can call another MEKA. Another three seconds until she’s safely inside. But how many until she’s found, and by who? Ten seconds? Two minutes?

Gunfire sounds off even louder, closer, and Hana is stuck covering her mouth as she begins to count, one, two, - gunfire, resounding from the left, - three, four, - the ground is shaking, it is _trembling_ , and Hana is watching pebbles dance from place to place -  five - her gloves are dirty but she presses them harder against her face as she tries to quiet her breathing, the pain blooming in her ribcage, still fifteen seconds before she can call MEKA but they’re here, they’re here, she can feel them coming closer and her heartbeat is so loud -

A hand is outstretched in front of her, palm open and inviting.

Hana’s heart is stopped but through the crashing adrenaline she begins to move her body, her movements stiff and robotic, as if she is beginning to relearn the process. Lúcio pulls her to her feet, supports her with an arm wrapped around her shoulders. The pain is beginning to slide away, her breathing becoming even. Lúcio smiles.

“You alright?” he asks, holding her by the shoulder to keep her steady. The clock is still turning. Hana adjusts the collar of her suit, brushes the hair out of her eyes. _Three._

“D.Va! C’mon, answer me!” _Two._ He only becomes more desperate the longer she stands there silent, listening to the approaching gunfire.

“Are you okay?” _One._ She presses the call button on her wrist, finds safety and familiarity in the way her fingers easily wrap around the controls.

“Don’t worry, Lúcio.”

 

“I’m back in the game.”

**Author's Note:**

> i know everyone really loves gremlin d.va jokes (and at the beginning i did too!) but i feel like there's a lot to be said for her - she's 19, she's basically an idol AND a soldier?!! like there's definitely a lot to her that could be explored. also it'd be sick if she was into coding. just my onion.
> 
> someday i'd maybe like to add more to this/expand on it but this is what i'm rolling with for now


End file.
